


The Human with the Beta Eyes

by Turn180degrees_itsSTILLnotENOUGH



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, M/M, Will add more tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-06 19:32:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16393820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn180degrees_itsSTILLnotENOUGH/pseuds/Turn180degrees_itsSTILLnotENOUGH
Summary: Stiles lives in a world where supernaturals now rule.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, So, Yeaa. First story I've posted so I'd love to know what people think. I will forewarn I am a pretty crappy writer so there might be parts that just don't make sense to people. feel free to give me any input. (grammar is a lost cause on me lol) Special thanks to Shad. Thanks Shad.

# The Human with the Beta Eyes

## Chapter 1 –

Soggy leaves were sticking to the three laying flat against the forest’s floor. Jackson wipes the side of his face with disgust, removing the bits of leaf that the mud had glued to him. “Why-” he emphasized, “are we still out here?” The other two hush him with urgency, sloshing around to face him.

“The same reason we left base, four trillion times before-“ Stiles whispers, exaggerated some, but he’s feeling Jackson’s lack of common sense more deeply than usual. They are all weary and the mission has dragged on for one too many nights this time. “The weather is still perfect for covering our scent, we haven’t found any worthwhile supplies yet, and we don’t know the next chance it’ll be safe to come out.” Stiles lists off with judgement. He could keep going, he really wants to keep going, but unlike Jackson, Stiles understands the importance of staying quiet. Supernatural senses are no joke.

  
“Hey, you guys!” Scott whisper-shouts (emphasis on the shouts) in excitement. He sounds like he’s a good chunk ahead of them and Stiles has no idea how a kid with asthma moved that far that quickly. But, really? Does no one understand the concept of a stealth mission? How the stealth part of it works? Stiles is really worried about their survival rate.

He’s glad he’s on Scott’s team though, even if it means getting stuck with Jackson. He doesn’t trust anyone else to look out for his bro. “You guys!” Scott whines, like the adorable puppy he is. “Come on, hurry up.”  
Stiles doesn’t like any of them being separated (yes, even Jackson) and so the two make their way through the tree brush to Scott. They are amazed when they find him. There, in the middle of the wilderness, is a blackened husk of a house. It looks charred and definitely abandoned.

“Whoa, dude!” Stiles is in amazement. He hasn’t seen an actual house since before they went into hiding 7 years ago. “What are we waiting for?”

“I was waiting for you,” Scott exclaims, and both boys become immersed in excitement as they approach. This find gives them a kiddish joy like when they used to go exploring together as children. Back when safe zones were still a thing and they thought it’d be fun to try adventuring out into a danger-zone. Now the whole world is a danger-zone. They aren’t fun.

“Stilinski, you’re an idiot if you think we can go into that death trap and come out in one piece,” Jackson chimes in like the kill-joy he is. Stiles refuses to see any reason in what he has to say. Knowing Jackson, he’s probably just scared to go inside.

“This is our best chance for scavenging so far, we can’t pass this opportunity up. We can’t afford to.” Scott reasons, 100% heartfelt, unlike if Stiles would have said it just so he could get a look inside the house. “If we find anything salvageable inside we can head straight back to base.” He tacks on and Stiles is impressed at the compromise.

Scott; always out to make everyone happy, to make everyone a winner. Stiles is glad he hasn’t changed despite the cruelty the world heaves on them. Stiles would protect him before that could happen, but he’s still glad it hasn’t.

Jackson seems to relent easy enough at that, after all they are all really, really ready to go home, and it makes them willing to do things they normally wouldn’t. For Jackson, that happens to be exploring the death-trap of a used-to-be house with his two least favorite people ever!

Three days doesn’t seem like a long time for a mission, but when they can't risk bringing anything with them, not even food. It makes everything agony. They’d have to turn around after tomorrow, anyway, because it’s a rule. No traveling farther than 4 days out. It’s too risky to go that far from base. Especially since they rely on the weather too much. They can only be out during or immediately after heavy rain. The air becomes too dense and saturated for any supernatural to be able to smell them and the ground is too wet to form tracks. The rain can help cover the sound of them as well.

It’s barely drizzling now though, hasn’t really been raining since that morning, and they are too far out for comfort. They need to find something, anything useful, and beam themselves back. Stiles is really glad Jackson relented so easily for once, because he can’t help feeling that they are treading on thin ice that already has cracks in it.

 

* * *

 

The house was possibly more charred on the inside than the outside. It looked like it was torched in the middle of a celebration of some sort. No one sorted through the house after it caught fire, that’s for sure. The large remains of the wooden table extended across the front room, with chairs and plates decorating it with what appeared to have been at one point a feast.

It makes Stiles stomach knot to see all the food that never got ate, that the owners of this house dished out with leisure, it was more than they currently had in storage for their whole encampment.

“I’m going to go look in the kitchen,” Scott states. All the boys split up into different rooms.

“Stilinski, I will make sure we leave you here if you break yourself,” Jackson hollers as he spots Stiles carefully testing the stairs. Jackson wanders through a set of double doors. “Now this is what I call a party.”

Once Stiles is upstairs, he sticks to the half of the hallway that actually has it’s flooring. Heat rises, but the fire somehow missed this entire part of the house. He finds what appears to be a bedroom. There is a bookshelf, desk, dresser, all amazingly intact.

"Jackpot!” Stiles finds some warm clothing and authentic leather jacket that can be used for the material. He scavenges the rest of the rooms and finds more good supplies, so much so he had to decide what’s most practical to bring back.

Stiles slips carrying all of his loot, and almost falls through a missing piece of the floor he didn’t see. After regaining his balance, he crouches down to pick up the stray hairbrush he dropped. Glancing into the room below, Stiles' eyes practically glow with excitement.

A library.

Stiles sets everything down and tries to maneuver himself onto his stomach, going feet first down through the floor to the room below. He steadies himself on top of the bookshelf that’s probably 6-7 feet high itself. He scoots to the edge, letting his feet dangle, and makes a leap off the bookshelf, hoping for the best. Luckily, he doesn't end up with a sprained ankle.

Looking around the room, Stiles is in amazement. This is the type of treasure he dreamed of finding as a kid. Books everywhere, towering over his head and going deeper into the room. He plops down, leaning against the bookshelf he made his descent from. He skims the titles around him, barely containing his glee as picks a book.

The book he’s flipping through is talking about rare diseases that can affect all living species. The supernatural section is disgustingly short.

He finds what looks like a makeshift office in the back. A large comfy office chair with neat papers filed in piles on the desk. The papers all look political and seem to be primarily about the old safe zones that used to exist.

There is a whole section dedicated to improving safe zones, and another on supernatural-human integration. After reading them for a good amount of time, Stiles gathers the papers up to take with him.

He wishes he could spend hours in the library reading every last book, but they’ve already spent too much time at the house. According to the search mission rules, they shouldn’t take more than an hour to loot any one spot. Stupid supernaturals can smell a scent trail that won’t go away if humans linger in one spot for too long. (Like leaving a spill too long and it’ll eventually stain).

He doesn’t even see a door and wonders how anybody got into the library. Maybe it’s a secret library. Stiles would totally make a secret library if he lived in a time humans had their own housing.

He uses the bookshelf like a ladder climbing up it and back onto the second floor. He stuffs the papers into his bag.

He makes his way to the kitchen downstairs where Scott said he’d be to find his comrades huddled together laughing on the floor.

“Uhh, am I interrupting something?” Stiles asked, confusion and concern evident in his voice. He thinks he might have to bleach his eyes. Scott and Jackson are arm in arm leaning into one another -- giggling. Stiles didn’t even know Jackson was capable of making such an unmanly sound. Well, not unless he was drunk.

“Oh, shit.” Looking around, sure enough, Stiles spots Jackson holding a now half empty bottle of something. It’s too scorched to read the label, but that didn’t stop them from drinking it. No wonder they didn’t come to find Stiles for taking too long.

“Scott, buddy, what are you doing?” Stiles reaches them, shaking Scott on the arm to get his attention and maybe, if he’s lucky, shaking the alcohol right out of his system. Scott doesn’t even register Stiles.

Stiles is getting frantic. They don’t have any type of alcohol in the compound. Just brief comments from the adults about missing it, but they should have known by those comments the type of effect it would have. “You guys need to snap out of it! What were you thinking?”

“Uwha-t?” Jackson scowls seeing Stiles, apparently Stiles kills his mood even if he’s drunk.

“Oh. Oh! Oh, my God! Hey Stiles!” Scott is much more excited to see Stiles. Unable to stand, he obnoxiously latches onto Stiles like he was previously doing with Jackson. “You won’t believe Jackson found!” Scott giggles into Stiles pant leg.

“You’re drunk. We’ve been here too long, and you’re drunk. Did you guys even get any supplies?” Stiles is running his hands through his hair, trying to think of the best thing to do.

He looks around and he finds Scott's bag full. He doesn’t even see Jackson's. At least Scott got supplies first. Stiles grabs Scott’s bag “Here put this on, we need to leave,” He helps Scott put each strap over his arm and gets him on his feet.

“Jackson, where is your bag?” Stiles asks as he guides a stumbling Scott to the door. He goes back to repeat the process with Jackson.

“Fuck off, don’t touch me,” Jackson sneers after Stiles got him to his feet. Jackson leaves the kitchen by himself, but he just keeps walking, away from the front door and into some other room.

“No, no no no, where are you going? The door is this way. Jackson, hello?” Stiles can’t deal with this. They need to leave.

Stiles really badly wants to take Scott and just leave Jackson behind. He even starts making a mental checklist of the pro’s and con’s as he chases after Jackson through the double doors.

He finds Jackson leaning over a metal display that’s holding other wine bottles. Most of the bottles are melted with glass dripping down the sides. It almost looks like art, if you ignore the rest of the room's matching appearance.

Jackson is reaching for one of the bottles at the bottom that looks like it hasn’t melted.

"No.” Stiles rushes to Jackson, stopping him from grabbing the bottle. “You are drunk, and we need to leave.” Stiles is trying his best to stay level-headed.

“Cool people don’t get drunk,” Jackson states in the same demeaning way he always talks to Stiles.

What kind of logic is that? Stiles really wants to shout, but instead he snatches the bottle away before Jackson can reach it. Stiles is now the most physically capable of the group. Isn’t that a scary thought?

“If you want the bottle, come and get it,” Stiles taunts as he progresses towards the door. Of course Jackson takes the bait, he’s come at Stiles for far less. Stiles looks around for Jackson’s bag, but he doesn’t see it anywhere as he’s leaving the room. He decides staying any longer is a greater risk than leaving the bag, so he continues towards the door where Scott is waiting.

“Stiles!” Scott exclaims, hugging him like he can’t believe Stiles is there. Jackson is still making his way behind Stiles, but he’s walking slow, stopping every few feet when he starts to wobble.

Stiles puts his arm around Scott and guides him out of the door, throwing another taunt at Jackson who picks up his pace some from behind them.

They’re being so loud, crunching and bumbling through the trees, re-tracking their steps back home.

“Stilinski!” Jackson hollers, and it makes Scott flinch.

“Duuude,” Scott whines. Stiles darts to Jackson covering his mouth with his hand.

“Shhh!” Stiles hisses at him. “Jackson, we are on a mission, out in the wilderness, where any supernatural could be lurking. Be. Quiet!”

Jackson blinks, and harshly flings Stiles' arms away from his mouth.

“I know that,” Jackson says with indignation. It lasts for about a minute before he’s demanding the bottle from Stiles and they start the chase all over again.

It takes about an hour for the alcohol to wear off. Stiles is so relieved they haven’t been mauled yet and had an extensive rant created in his head, but he’s just too exhausted now.

 

* * *

 

 

Scott has his head hung low, walking subdued beside Stiles. Jackson is stealthily walking a few feet ahead of them. Jackson got sick of seeing Stiles looking back with concern every few minutes and stormed ahead of them.

“But, Jackson said-”

“Shut up, McCall!”

“Jackson said-” Scott emphasized, “that we wouldn’t get drunk.”

Stiles gives Scott his judgement face because it would be wasted on Jackson. “So... you drank the substance in the burnt out, unlabeled bottle, assuming it was alcohol, which is only known to get humans drunk and has absolutely no positive benefits -- not to mention it looked like it could poison you... because Jackson said it wouldn’t get you drunk.”

Scott doesn't seem like he's actually following what Stiles is saying.

“Yeah?”

“Drop it already, its over with.” Jackson sighs from in front of them.

“Over with?” Stiles voice pitches with anger, thinking of the past hour or so he had to endure, “Alcohol makes you lose judgement, it’s meant to make people relax and put their guard down. It decreases basic understanding and alertness and- and- it makes people act stupid! It’s- it’s-“

“Stiles, calm down. Breathe,” Scott rubs Stiles’ back. “I’m sorry bro, I wanted to be able to tell Allison I was cool enough to not get drunk.” Scott admitted.

Allison. Stiles should have figured the one thing that could make Scott do something that stupid. Stiles doesn’t blame his best friend. He definitely would have drank the whole bottle if it meant he had a shot with Lydia. Scott just should have known better than to trust Jackson.

Stiles lets the topic drop.

“Wolves, you know, vicious killers who could swat you down like a bug and then drink your blood. Or, worse! Enslave you to beat you into submission until you die!” Stiles isn’t very good at dropping things. “We have no defense against those monsters other than making them oblivious to our existence. We haven’t even had sex yet Scotty, we cant die.”

“God, you guys are pathetic,” Stiles ignores Jackson's unnecessary remark to focus on Scott.

“I would never see Alison again,” Scott draws the conclusion like a stack of bricks just got dropped on him.

 

* * *

 

They tread quietly and quickly for a long 7 hours or so until well past the sun’s setting. They come across the marker they left at the beginning of their 3rd day. The marker is just a couple of sticks and stones set in a specific design, but you wouldn’t know if you weren’t looking for it.

Scott breaks apart the marker and they travel in the direction of the next marker for another hour at a much more sluggish pace. Scott's head is killing him, and he feels terrible and nauseous.

He never should have listened to Jackson. Allison is wonderful and would care more about his safety. Jackson had just sounded so confident and supportive for once. Scott knows some people see him as gullible, but he thinks it's better to see the good in people.

Jackson said he heard all the adults bragging about how they don’t get drunk and how much they could drink. He said they used to have alcohol even in the safe zones. All the leaders would get to drink and it never got them drunk. Scott has even heard the adults reminiscing about drinking, Jackson’s dad was one of them.

Scott couldn’t have known what effects it would have, but that’s exactly why they shouldn’t have drank it. He’s starving, they all are. Scott remembers that he fit all the nonperishable food he could in his bag, but there was still more food there. They should have filled up their stomachs with what they couldn't carry. They could have had food in their stomachs for the first time in days. It all got left behind.

Scott knows he screwed up, but he’s thankful it didn’t cost them more than an empty stomach.

“This is good enough, I’m not walking anymore. I feel like shit,” Jackson comments as he plops down. They’ve made it to a more dense part of the forest and Jackson is not happy about how his alcohol experience went. Those stupid men his dad hangs out with clearly don’t know what they were talking about. Jackson shouldn’t have gotten drunk. He is better than some alcohol.  

Scott and Stiles don’t even protest. They both start setting up. “I’ll take first watch shift, you both still look like zombies, could even pass as some if we did get caught,” Stiles jokes. He pulls out some of the papers he found in the library, he is really excited to show these to his dad. He gets out his flashlight and gets as comfy as he can on the cold forest floor.

“What are you doing?” Scott asks as he propped his head on his bag in place a pillow. He sounds intrigued, but he doesn’t move, other than to rub his head. Stiles was joking when he said that they looked like zombies, but that doesn’t mean it was inaccurate.

“Who cares, turn that thing off it’s killing my head,” Jackson has the audacity to demand while using Stiles’ backpack as a pillow for himself.

“I’m looking over some of the important political papers I found at the house,” Stiles answers Scott, but instead of elaborating, he directs the conversation to Jackson. “What did you find Jackson? What? Nothing? Well, don’t worry. You’ve found some useful things in the past couple of days… What’s that? You left all those behind? Why would you do that? Oh, because you’re a dumb meathead? That makes sense.” Scott asks Stiles to stop before he continues any further. Jackson swears Stiles is the most annoying thing in existence.  

He wants to get up and engrave Stiles face in the dirt with his fists, but he just cant bring himself to move. Jackson reaches beside where he’s lying and chucks a rock instead. It hits Stiles right on the knee making Jackson smirk at his impressive aim.

“Ow! What the actual fuck, Jackson?!” Stiles hisses in pain.

“Stiles, are you ok?” Scott gets up and comes over to Stiles, blocking Jackson from view. “Jackson, that was uncalled for. Apologize.” Scott is looking over the spot the rock hit. It only left a small red mark. He doesn’t doubt it would have been much worse if Jackson wasn’t so exhausted and had his full strength.

“It was that idiots fault I lost my bag in the first place.” Jackson justifies.

“What? Seriously, what? Jackson, I already know you are delusional and think you can do no wrong, but how could you possibly think that was my fault? I wasn’t even there!” Stiles demands.

“Exactly, if you came back when you were supposed to, instead of collecting some useless papers, none of that would have happened.”

Stiles wants to point out everything wrong with that logic, but Jackson doesn’t give him the chance as he flips over and turns his back to them. Stiles fumes and complains to Scott instead.

“Jackson's an ass, ignore him. It was my fault it happened. I’m the group leader and I should have put a stop to Jackson drinking, not joined him. I’ll take responsibility for it when we return.”

“What? No, Scott you didn’t know! It’s not your fault. We can just make something up, say we ran into a real wolf and had to leave the bag behind.” Stiles says refusing to let Scott take the blame for Jackson.

Scott laughs as he lays back down. “Stiles, we’ve learned what animals to look out for, wolves weren’t even one of them.” Scott says through a yawn.

“Well, I’ll figure out something to say,” Stiles turns the flashlight off. He’s not in the mood for reading anymore, and it’s probably better to save the battery.

“You always do.” Scott whispers, falling asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wasn't going to upload this on such a cliff hanger, but Shad said it's what a good author would do, so blame her.

# The Human with the Beta Eyes

## Chapter 2-

 

In the morning after they’ve all rested, they set off again. Stiles left his papers out to reread.

They travel quietly, Scott leading and Stiles trailing behind with his head buried in papers. Jackson must not be feeling much better after sleeping because he is overly subdued, even while Stiles comments on what he is reading.

They are moving at a much quicker pace than usual, practically wearing their exhaustion. Stiles keeps tripping on the uneven forest’s floor. They still have at least two days of traveling ahead of them.

Stiles rams into Scott’s backside.

Stiles looks up to find Scott and Jackson looking at one of their markers with concern. It’s been disturbed.

“Probably just a deer or something, you guys.” Stiles suggests. After how loud they were yesterday, anything within miles would have been able to hear them. There's no way it isn’t some harmless, woodland creature.

“Yea, you’re probably right.” Scott agrees, although he sounds unsure.

“Let’s not stick around and find out.” Jackson says, urging them to continue. They move on, with quickened heartbeats and more careful steps.

Stiles hastily rolls up the papers he was reading and shoves them in a pocket of his bag. They were getting boring anyway, all about some kids of the family who lived at the house they explored. Stiles will finish reading them later, one kid particularly stood out to him.

When they get to the next marker, Scott can feel his heart jump into his throat. Something much worse is on the ground than just a disrupted marker this time. Wolf tracks.

No one says anything. Scott can feel himself try to quiet his breathing as much as he can. Each heavy breath makes him want to flinch, but he can’t help himself.

Each boy makes eye contact. There are no wolves in the area. Wolf tracks can only mean one thing. Werewolves.

Scott lurches down.

There isn’t much they can do.

Scott guides them towards where he knows the stream is located. It's off track from their path home, but it should give them better coverage in terms of sound and smell. It’s unlikely a werewolf would think of that; they have a tendency to belittle humans.

Instincts make Jackson want to slather himself in mud as coverage, but hiding from supernaturals doesn’t work like that. _At least I got the chance to drink alcohol._ Jackson hates that the thought creeps in his head. He doesn’t want to be captured or killed. They will make it home, they have to. He follows behind thinking of Lydia and what their last conversation was.

A howl cuts through the trees.

 

* * *

 

They can see the water flowing up ahead, and they sprint to it like it’d give them salvation. They know it won’t. Not now. Tracks are one thing; a howl is definite. They’re being tracked.

They don’t have battle plans or strategies, they don’t bother wasting time planning them at camp. Hiding from supernaturals is so important because they know there is nothing they can do against one face to face.

Scott refuses to give up. So what they haven’t practiced for this? They’ve made it out of tough situations before. Stiles is a master of plans and Scott wouldn’t put it past him to already be forming a plan in his head. They just have to put their heads together.

They make it to the water’s edge as another howl rips through the air. The second howl sounds a lot louder. A lot closer.

Stiles is crouched down a few feet away. Scott immediately realizes Stiles is having a panic attack. Stiles wheezing for breath, and Jackson is beside him, frantic. He’s massaging his back and pleading for Stiles to knock out of it, Jackson's voice sounds scared.

It’s been so long since Stiles had an attack, but helping Stiles is second nature. Scott comes over silently as possible. He can physically feel the wasted seconds coaxing Stiles out of his attack, but his brother comes first. Always.

Stiles can’t believe he started having a panic attack. Okay, well, he can, but none of them can afford it. They don’t have time. He forces it back quicker with the help of Scott and Jackson. Before he’s caught his breath fully, Scott is talking deathly quiet and deathly serious. Stiles can’t quite get his brain to focus, everything seems distant, and he needs something to focus on.

“We take the river, jump in, and travel. It’s the safest way, even if it leads us away from the village.” Scott says, already climbing into the murky water, Jackson towing Stiles behind him who’s still trying to pull himself together.

“No, the howl-“  Stiles tries, but he’s being pulled along by Jackson and doesn’t dare raise his voice any louder. But Stiles knows, they all know what a howl means. The wolf, the werewolf, is hunting. The river might slow it down, but it’ll find them. Stiles knows it will, he’s not going to be optimistic and pray somehow it won’t. They’re all going to die. Stiles had been engulfed by panic because he realized what the howl meant. He’s going to die. It’s already too late.

Stiles almost drives himself into another panic attack watching Scott sloshing ahead of him in the water. Breathing short and face red, Stiles realizes that Scott is barely hanging on from exhaustion due to his asthma and the after effects of the alcohol. Jackson isn’t any better. Scott’s plan isn’t going to work. It’s just not enough. Stiles head is spinning he feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin. He can practically feel death itself, and it’s making his adrenaline rush.

Stiles stops, jerking Jackson who has been dragging him along. “It's not enough, the werewolf will catch up. We need a diversion,” Scott and Jackson turn to him, and he can see the question forming, but he doesn’t waste any time. “I’ll lure the werewolf away. You guys continue. Hide out down the river, then head back to the compound.” Jackson's eyes go wide while Scott becomes furious.

“We are not leaving y-” Scott begins to object.

“Scott, the werewolf won’t stop until it finds something, so its either all of us or one of us.” Stiles absolutely refuses to let anything happen to Scott if he can do something. He’s the only one with enough stamina. He’d rather go face the monsters alone than let them all get hunted down.

“Jackson, don’t let him do anything stupid.” Scott tries to protest again, but Stiles squeezes Scott, barreling over him. “I love you, bro. Tell my dad I love him, and, hey, we don’t need to think of an excuse anymore for Jackson’s missing backpack. Just promise me you’ll get back okay. Please, for me.” Stiles rushes out, hoping he’s not forgetting anything. Scott refuses to make that promise and looks like he’s about to argue, but Stiles can’t stay and argue, so he just takes off towards the sound of the howl.

And Scott tries to follow, but Jackson stops him, tackling him into the water. Jackson feels like scum letting Stilinski go off, but he’s terrified. This will increase their chances of making it out of this alive. What else is he supposed to do? He couldn’t offer to go himself, there wasn’t time. He’s sick with relief that there wasn’t time.

Jackson knows Scott would rather go down with Stiles than leave him behind. Jackson will do all he can to make sure Scott is safe. It’s the least he can do.

Scott is in shock. He’s trying his hardest to muscle out of Jackson's grasp. He’s not leaving Stiles, he can’t lose Stiles, he just can’t! It feels like everything is moving too fast and in slow motion at the same time. They’ve been together forever, through everything, and if that means getting captured together, so be it. Scott would definitely be shouting after Stiles if it didn’t put Jackson in jeopardy.

He finally stops struggling once he can’t see Stiles anymore. All he can hear is heavy breaths and the rush of the water. They stand, and Scott doesn’t know what to do. Stiles is- No. Scott goes to scream Stiles’ name, wishes he did earlier before he was out of sight. Screw Jackson, he needs to be there for Stiles, but Jackson gets his hand over his mouth before Scott can holler. Seriously screw Jackson. Scott is trying to scream, feeling light headed. He should have tried harder, he should have struggled more, something! Why is this happening?

There’s another howl in the distance, but this time it doesn’t sound any closer, and it makes tears fall down Scott’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! tell me what you think? Have a happy Thanksgiving!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and tell me what you think?


End file.
